CHAPTER THIRTY TWO.
There's a dull throb in my heart. One different from the one I felt earlier. This is more tamed, aching, spreading around areas in my chest I'll never be able to reach with my hand.
Katniss continues to stare at me as she stands by the door, holding it ajar. She raises a condescending brow. “Just because there are no guards at their post doesn't mean you have the right to come over to the King's quarter,” she says. “You should be punished for this, but I'll excuse you because I'm feeling charitable today. What are you doing here?”
I don’t answer. My gaze slides past her, into the room, where King Sven lies sprawled across the bed like a fallen warrior—or, more accurately, like a man who just got very thoroughly knocked out.
Katniss snaps her fingers in my face. “Ey
